Wings of Ruin (Otherworld Book 3)

by Talis Jones

  “Hmm,” was all Titus said.

  “It would not control anyone,” Abel continued. “It would only keep those marked from betraying the others, from willfully hurting them.” He wasn't sure he was explaining it right, he couldn't seem to find the right words so he continued to speak hoping they would come. “I think if we'd had this before, we would not have turned against her and she would not have rent us apart...and if she does ever return, she will find no allies amongst us this time.”

  Titus watched the boy carefully, so uncharacteristically hesitant and cautious with his words as if trying to explain his own meaning to himself. His words did not matter, Oneiroi would understand. “Then so be it,” he affirmed. And so it was.

  This Whispers did not settle, did not disregard his warning quite so quickly. Until they could know she was dead they would fear her return. It could be in months, in years, it could even be tomorrow and they would not know how changed she may appear for their worlds were separate and time moved independent of the other. She may return withered with age or barely altered, she may return with vengeance in her heart or a newfound peace, she may return alone or with an army at her back...they could not know and so they would fear. They would fear and hope that the mortal realm would hold her until dust claimed her bones, a feat only possible when a Whisper left their sanctuary.

  Titus knew he could keep tabs on her if he wished whenever he sailed beyond Oneiroi to her mortal world, but he much preferred the surprise. He could do it to help assuage the Whispers' fears, but he much preferred the new drive within them. They'd grown complacent and foolish, perhaps this will help reignite old memories and hard learned lessons. Oh yes, the game was still on, he could feel it. Cassandra's exile was not the end, but a mere interlude until the next round and he was curious to stand witness until the prophecy was no more. A forbidden thrill filled him for the second twin had not even arrived on the board yet, a player they often forgot to take into account. Titus' eyes danced with secrets. If only they knew...

  Chapter 24

  Moscow

  2 Years Later

  If Cassandra had it her way she'd describe her time in Moscow as simple, her mission in-complex, and her goal unshaken. Even as she stroked Borya's muscled arm, a top tier boss in the sticky underbelly of Moscow, under the guise of heiress Cassie Halloran she kept her quest for the compass at the forefront of her mind. She'd needed resources and Borya's connections were the best so despite his nightmarish ethics she'd batted her silly eyelashes and instrumented a meet cute only to disappear like smoke from between his fingers. He'd caught the scent and pursued a hunt to find the elusive green-eyed beauty and eventually she'd let him lure her to his surprisingly immaculate townhouse.

  Only the first floor proved acceptable for public viewing while the other floors bore testament to his true law-flaunting lifestyle.

  Cassandra knew full well Cassie Halloran was merely a trophy for the great Borya to flaunt on his arm and she played the part well. A rich girl in a new city bored and seeking something dangerous to play with, Cassie Halloran spent her every moment charming Borya and his closest men allowing her intelligence to shine through her pretty mask at only the most opportune moments so that slowly but surely she won not only his affections but his trust.

  Months spent grooming her mark and at last she was ready to place her first big request. Find the compass. Cassandra's heart was in a constant war between reckless impatience and relaxed confidence. This would at last be a major step towards stilling her restless, magic-less fingers.

  “Borya,” she murmured gently in that way she knew melted his black heart just a touch. He lay down a card and shifted his attention to her.

  “Mm?”

  “Can your boys really find anything?” she queried with a touch of hopeful awe.

  Borya gave her a crooked grin. “'Course they can. Why d'you ask?”

  Cassandra bit her lip and thought for a moment. “Well, there's a compass that was my mother's and she lost it while visiting Moscow. It's one of the reasons I wanted to travel here so badly. With her gone, it'd be an invaluable piece to have and hold her memory.”

  Borya squeezed her hand gently. “I'm sorry 'bout your mother, but I can't spare the men for such an errand right now. The government is cracking down on us like poisoned smoke in a rat hole. Maybe once things settle...”

  She shrugged trying to hide her obvious disappointment. “No, no I understand. I shouldn't have asked.”

  As her eyes shone with unshed tears he pulled her closer. “There's a shop in the city that specializes in finding lost things. The man who runs it is an odd sort but he might be interested in the job. Search his shop and if it isn't there pay him to keep an eye out. Just tell Alyosha how much you need.”

  “Truly?” Cassandra asked breathlessly. “You'd help me with this?”

  He turned back to his game to lay down another card. “We do all for family. Besides you'll be paying me back with your fat inheritance. All you have to do, Cassie, is accept.”

  Ah yes, the magnificently fake inheritance. Cassandra hid her stiffness at the name she could still not bear as she pursed her lips and poked his chest so that he met her gaze once more. “Is that supposed to be a proposal?”

  Borya grinned. “I'll buy you the fancy ring later. So what do you say?”

  In truth Cassandra was struck by the moment. Once again she found herself in a place on life's path where she could choose love, acceptance, and settle for something comfortably predictable. Impossible. She had a greater purpose to chase in this life and she would not be hindered by mundane offers of friendship or marriage. Besides, this illusion of safety would crumble the moment they realized she was not in fact Cassie Halloran but a thief who'd pinched and fenced enough items to make it seem so.

  If they'd even suspected her lies they'd only investigated far enough to confirm her story and not her precise identity or whereabouts. Sometimes she suspected they did not believe her clever enough for deception. She’d managed to explain away her limited funds by claiming she was strapped by a miserly allowance with marriage the key to the financial floodgates, but now he was offering to open them except there would be nothing there. Without her inheritance (and doubly so if revealed as a liar) she knew Borya would be hard-pressed to toss her onto the streets no matter what he may feel for her, but Cassandra planned to be well gone before then. Or so she hoped assuming the man at the curio shop worked swiftly.

  Cassandra preferred remaining unentangled. This offer however was one she could not afford to turn down if she wanted that damn compass. Borya offered endless buried wealth, protection, and information. With any luck the communists would keep his territory on shifting ground long enough to put off the wedding and let her disappear into the night with the compass in her clutches. Yet she'd go through with it if she must. A meaningless inconvenience.

  With a blushing smile she whispered, “Yes.”

  Borya boomed out a cheer, ordering more drinks for them all. Cassandra feigned little sips of the foul inebriating substance as she always did.

  With the morning sun, Cassandra rose. Dressing with practiced haste she snuck down the stairs only to jump a mile at an outburst. Pieter and Alyosha were ever the practical jokers and jumping from behind corners to startle her was a favorite pastime. She gave them a deadly glare that they returned with goofy self-satisfied grins. Cassandra was not one easily startled but something about the two unexpectedly friendly goons teased her oft forgotten sense of fun.

  “Where you off to, eh Cassie?” Alyosha asked from her right.

  “The curio shop.”

  Pieter rolled his eyes on her left. “Again?”

  “Has my compass been found? No? Then again I shall return and encourage the search,” she huffed.

  “He'll call you when it's found,” Pieter promised.

  “I like to be sure he remains motivated.”

  Cassandra waited for Pieter to warm up the car while Alyosha opened her door then followe
d her in. Both were trusted men Borya insisted guard her every move unless he was there to protect her himself. It was moments like these that she wished she could shatter the weak façade of Cassie Halloran and show them just exactly what she was capable of even without her precious powers. Pushing their presence to the peripherals of her mind she took in the puddles and cracks foreshadowing the sieve that was this communist revolution until they reached a street that straddled the edge between kings and paupers.

  The peeling painted sign, once intricately drawn, declared the shop as the Eye of Oneiroi. When Cassandra had first visited her heart had nearly skipped a beat as certainty at last ignited her veins. Run by an elderly white-haired Englishman, an exiled Jourdie no less, she'd toured the cluttered shop filled with objects foreign, strange, unique, lost, and unusual. She never bothered to ask why he'd been cast out from the Jourdies just as she refrained from trusting him with the full truth of the compass.

  A little bell tinged as she swung open the door, bidding her guards to wait outside. Pieter leaned against the car and pulled out a cigarette while Alyosha's keen eyes swept the street standing alert by the door. Their darkening of the shop's doorstep surely took a toll on the man's business.

  “Good morning, Miss Halloran,” Ol' Jonathan welcomed her.

  “Good morning,” she nodded pleasantly enough. “Any progress?”

  “You needn't come all this way,” he admonished gently. “I will send any reports straight to your door without delay.”

  Cassandra refrained from scowling. “I enjoy the trip and besides it's a chance to walk the dogs.”

  The man glanced out the shop window at the men waiting just outside. “Ah,” he bowed, letting the subject drop uncomfortably. Shuffling some papers behind the counter he cleared his throat. Keeping the counter between them he gave her a nervous smile. “Mikael has yet to have any luck.”

  “Is that so?” Cassandra questioned dubiously, raising one slender brow. “Any leads or clues at all? Where is he searching at present?”

  All too aware of the men waiting outside the door he gave a little twitch. “He is in Germany, Miss Halloran. He has high hopes a more substantial clue to its whereabouts can be found there.”

  Cassandra let out a little huff. “Well that's something, I suppose. Have you his latest letter?”

  Jonathan blanched. “Whatever for?”

  She smiled reassuringly. “I am not the iron-fisted brute my fiancé is, sir. I only wish to know an address by which I can reach your man directly. I may have recalled some more details that could aid in his search.”

  “I'd be happy to pass along anything you wish to say,” Jonathan offered.

  Cassandra simply held her smile in place. “The letter, if you please.”

  Seeing no alternative the man fumbled behind the counter before retrieving a letter postmarked last week. Cassandra glanced down at the address and nodded.

  “I admit I remain anxious to recover my mother's lost compass. Let us both hope your Mr. Myrddin finds it quickly.”

  With that she strode out of the shop, ignoring all of the glittering fascinations piled on shelves around her. Tucking the letter into her jacket before Alyosha or Pieter could see, she embraced the damp weather ready to return to the rat's nest she currently called home, a slight determined bounce in her step.

  “What're you so happy about?” Alyosha asked curiously as he held open the car door.

  “My next step,” she responded simply.

  Pieter grinned. “What? The wedding? It'll be wild to be sure.”

  Cassandra blinked. “To be sure.”

  Shouts and males cluttered Borya's doorstep and Cassandra hoped it wasn't another silly alpha male fracas. Borya was always quick to dispatch them and be done with it thankfully but it did leave an awful mess.

  “What's going on?” she asked at large.

  Alyosha shook his head but as Pieter parked the car he began to laugh. “The boys are back!”

  Bounding out of the car he ran up the steps and yanked a man into a hug around the neck. Cassandra couldn't make out his face only that he was a strapping blond. Alyosha calmly opened the door and handed her out the car.

  “The boys?” she inquired unsure of her opinion just yet.

  “Borya sent them on a run across the border before you met us. You know him, always trying to expand his business,” he explained with a shrug. His lips flattened as he mused, “They should've been back weeks ago...”

  Bracing herself for more jaw-aching smiling and rapid-fire introductions, she sauntered towards the steps with Alyosha following behind. “Welcome back, boys! Now if you wouldn't mind taking your rowdy celebrations indoors–” Her breath cut off in a painful slice as the blond Pieter had hugged turned around with a slight limp.

  Recognition flared in his eyes, turning their mirth into a freezing cold meant only for her. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  Cassandra opened her mouth to reply, with what she didn't know, when Alyosha spoke up sharply. “She is Borya's fiancé so mind your tone.”

  Taking the hint he shut his mouth, but Cassandra did not miss the questions and calculating thoughts spinning through his gaze.

  “Do you know each other?” Pieter asked curiously.

  “Know her? She's my sister,” he grinned evilly and Cassandra knew at once she'd not been forgiven.

  “Liam.” Her tone was impossible to riddle out, even to her own ears. Was she shocked? Angry? Uncaring? Beseeching? She prayed she was not that last.

  Pieter looked back and forth between them. “By blood? I thought she had no siblings.”

  “So dear Cassie wishes,” he answered darkly.

  Cassandra did not so much as blink.

  “So...the inheritance?” Pieter questioned awkwardly.

  Liam's head snapped back in laughter. “Is that what you told them?” Suddenly he shrugged. “What do I know. Perhaps you have managed to rub two coins together, after all you accomplished coming back from the dead.” His frigid gaze locked onto hers once more, “but I doubt it.” Keeping their eyes locked he continued, “She's a nobody orphan just like me, raised by a soft-hearted old fool who could not love the darkness out of her.”

  Blood pounded in her ears and she had to fight down her rage. She could've saved her father if it weren't for little Liam being utterly useless yet utterly beloved. She could not deny her father his final wish. Her own icy glare took in this burden she'd once tried to sever from her life. He'd clearly grown strong and capable since boyhood, but that did nothing to erase a past buried in ashes. Bile rose in the back of her throat at the mere sight of him.

  After a stunned silence carried for too long, Alyosha broke it with a small cough. “Let us take this inside.” He held out his arm, gesturing for Cassandra to proceed and she did so making no fuss.

  They piled into the handsome sitting room as Pieter went upstairs to fetch Borya and they waited in an uncomfortable silence. Cassandra had charmed her way into their lives and to discover her a con left her fate teetering in the balance. Wealth or love was Borya's choice. Punishment or forgiveness. She did not care either way nor would she wait.

  Tipping her face up to meet Alyosha's gaze she asked, “Might I have a moment to freshen up? Please?”

  Something like pity flickered over him and with a nod of his chin she strode towards the small powder room down the hall, her feet silent on the plush rugs lining the path. She could feel Liam's eyes burning her back and could not contain her smile. Before she could shut the door Alyosha appeared.

  With tears shining in her eyes she whispered, “He will not choose love nor forgiveness, will he?”

  To his credit he could not hold her broken-hearted gaze as he answered softly, “No.”

  She gave a tiny nod then pressed the door closed. Wasting no time she slid open the window on the far wall, attached her purse tightly to a decorative chain around her waist that also served as a belt to hold her little bag, then began tearing apart the room as quie
tly as she could. She'd had more than enough time to find Borya's hidey-holes for cash should an emergency occur. In holes behind loose tiles, tucked beneath picture frames, hidden in false cabinet backs, she found it all and shoved it down the bodice of her dress, in her stockings, her purse, and anywhere else she could fit it.

  Alyosha was too clever to not hear or guess what she was up to, but the fact that he did nothing spoke clearly enough of his feelings. Whatever else he may think, he believed her to be in love and despite being a dangerous man with blood-stained hands the one thing he could not stand to witness was a broken heart.

  Hoisting herself up onto the windowsill she forced her dress into cooperation and pushed herself out landing in the manicured back lawn in a graceful crouch. As she awkwardly scurried over the fence into a little alley and took off into the wild streets of Moscow she could just hear Borya's bear-like roar.

  Chapter 25

  Germany

  Ambition drenched the air like a sticky sweet toffee, crystallizing in the cracks of the streets while war wafted through, a bitter smoke that clung to the lungs of all whether blind or welcoming. Fear danced like a staccato, too afraid to settle lest it get stuck in the grasp of ambition or choked by the promise of war. Goosebumps rose along Cassandra's skin and she tipped her head back relishing in the feeling of change, that innate knowing that something was brewing, that something was already here.

  She stood across the busy road watching a pub, laughter and music spilling out with each swing of the door even as others sifted past faceless and unseen, their soul's starlight streaked with soot even as it defiantly shone in their downcast eyes. Filth coated the hem of her stolen coat and wind carded its fingers through her tangled hair yet her eyes remained fixed upon her quarry like an arrow hungry for the beating pulse in a rabbit's neck. Time could have run or crawled past, Cassandra did not notice, she only stirred when the door swung open once more and a man with a slender build like a midnight thief departed clutching his scarf around his neck. Following at a discreet distance, Cassandra stalked him eventually hastening her steps until she shoved him sideways into an alley.